Worry About You
by reen212000
Summary: A little post mission goes awry story, from the POV of each character. What are friends for? Elizabeth, John, Rodney, and Carson do some worryin'. General Season 2, no spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't have a beta yet, so sorry for any mistakes. And I don't own any piece of the Stargate legacy.

Worry About You – Elizabeth

What Happened Was...

I look down at a blank sheet used for reports, having no idea where to start. Reflecting on the recent events, I close my tired eyes to replay the moments leading up to now.

When I saw that look on his face, I knew there would be trouble. I didn't think that man would react the way he did, and I really didn't think he'd strike me. Watching John's eyes change from carefully genial to cold calculation was something I never want to see again. The lines of suspicion, then anger, marred his boyish features, and the air around him became electric.

He had changed. It was as if a dark cloud had passed over the sun.

The blow to my face shocked me; it surprised me more than it hurt. I could only stare as the scene unfolded before me. Everything moved in slow motion. People always say that, but I never believed it until now. The colonel gave them a chance to apologize, but when the window closed, he moved quickly, deliberately. Big ones first, then the others. He and Ronon had the upper hand for a while; then the situation changed. I suspected Sheppard set himself up as a diversion while Teyla and I escaped. We finally did, with Teyla leading the way back to the 'gate. If she wasn't there, I don't think I could have found my way, even though the Stargate was not far away. My last vision of the colonel and Ronon Dex, they had lost the advantage. Sheppard went down first in a flurry of fists.

Teyla dragged me to the 'gate. In a daze, I gave my IDC, looking back for two men to emerge from the trees. She raised her gun, ready to lay cover fire, and told me to go through the gate. As I walked slowly up the ramp, my whole face began to throb painfully.

Before stepping into the shimmering field, I turned back once more, searching the trees. Ronon came bursting through the small stand of trees, half-carrying the colonel. Both were bloodied and bruised, but alive.

Teyla covered our six, as the military would say, and Ronon pushed Colonel Sheppard through the gate. I followed, catching the colonel's elbow as he swayed on the other side.

"Are you okay?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Was I okay? It was always the first thing he asked. Always. I wasn't the one bruised and beaten. His breathing was fast and shallow as he searched my face. Under purpling bruises, he was pale and getting paler. Is that a word? Maybe not, but that's the only one that came to mind.

I shook myself to answer, "I'm fine." Someone had called Carson, and I saw him place a hand on the colonel's shoulder. Sheppard looked like he would melt on the spot, but I watched him regain his composure and walk slowly towards the infirmary, with Carson now holding his elbow.

I – we, including Ronon and Teyla – followed the med team out of the control room. "Good job, everyone Thank you," I said, completely on automatic. The words fell out of my mouth, without thought.

Habit, I guess.

My eyes wandered to Carson as he steered John down the corridor. The colonel struggled to keep his head upright. Carson kept asking questions, but I couldn't hear John's answers if he said anything at all. His stoicism could be admired, but there had to be limits. Right?

We finally gained the infirmary, and Ronon marched forward to assist the colonel onto the exam bed. I sat on a bed opposite John, watching him watch me. He could barely keep his eyes open as Doctor Beckett checked him over; Carson had to forcefully push the injured man down to lay flat. Then, and only then, did he succumb.

"Colonel? Can you hear me, son?" He poked and gently prodded, seeming to know where to touch.

My heart skipped a beat until I heard him speak. "Yes, Carson, I can hear you. You're standing right here."

"All right, we'll certainly have to get X-rays. Casey, luv, why don't you clean up these cuts while I check on my other patients." He turned his affable smile on me, trying to distract away from his piercing doctor's glare. "Well, dear," he said, placing my chin in both hands. "It looks like you joined in the fray."

More like caused it. "Really, Carson, it's nothing. I just got in the way." I thought I heard a snort from the neighboring bed. Got in the way of a very large angry man. Then I began thinking of everything that could have happened, a knife instead of a hand, a gun instead of a fist, etc.

"Let's attend to that, Elizabeth." A nurse handed him a cold compress. "Now lay back, and relax. Sleep if you like, but keep this on that on your cheek to keep the swelling down." He smiled kindly again. "I'll come back soon." He moved towards Ronon, who had already placed a pilfered bandage on his arm. I could've sworn I heard him growl at the doctor.

I smiled cautiously, aware of my minor injury. My eyes sleepily wandered over to the bed next to mine again. The colonel lay with his eyes closed; his body looked tense and uncomfortable. I watched him breathe, his left arm pressed firmly against his rib cage.

"Okay, Colonel. Time for pictures of your gorgeous bones," Nurse Casey winked at John. Although he didn't open his eyes, he smiled.

"Why, Miss Casey. I do believe you're flirting with me," he drawled.

Casey Weber was old enough to be his grandmother, but she was so full of life. She was definitely someone I could aspire to be when I reach her age.

"Of course, handsome. You're my best customer," she chuckled as she grabbed hold of his right hand. She placed her free hand behind his back, ready to support him as he sat up. When he hesitated, she moved forward getting her shoulder under his raised head. "Ready?" At his slight nod, she pushed him up until he was upright.

Sheppard let a gasp escape his lips. "Man, that hurts!" After taking several deep breaths, he stood on shaky legs.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times... You don't have to walk over there," Casey quietly scolded. I smiled as I watched them leave. John Sheppard wouldn't have it any other way. He would never admit defeat by injury.

"Well, how else am I gonna get your attention?" In spite of everything, he tossed a grin at her. He always had a smile ready, whether he meant it or not.

"Now who's flirting with whom? Flattery will still get you to an X-ray."

I watched their slow progress to another part of the infirmary until they disappeared behind a curtain.

"Elizabeth. Yer not keeping that pressed to yer cheek," Carson startled me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry," I said numbly. Closing my eyes, I let the coolness seep into my skin. I think I may have dosed off when I felt like I was being watched.

His gaze was dark and penetrating. I had not heard him come back and settle on the bed. "How's the face, Doctor Weir?"

"It'll be fine, Colonel." I decided to take the opportunity to check him over once more. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and his breathing was still not quite right. "I–"

Casey had interrupted me. I wasn't sure what I was about to say, but I was thankful for the distraction. "Time for scrubs, Colonel."

"Carson!" Sheppard called. "I'm fine! I don't need to stay–"

Beckett put up a hand to quell Sheppard's whining. "Colonel, ye have three bruised ribs, and a sizable knock on the head." He crossed his arms, frowning. Then he shook his head. "Yer not fighting me on this, John. Now, change so that we can treat the rest of those cuts and scrapes." He sighed greatly. "If yer blood work comes back clean, ye can leave in a few hours." He pointed a severe finger at the pale man sitting on the edge of the bed, his voice was calm and dangerously quiet. "I'll be back to check on ye."

John huffed and pulled off his shirt. I think that if he wasn't so distracted by Carson, Sheppard would not have removed any article of clothing in front of me. Now, I could see the extent of his injuries. His whole left side was a mottled mess of purple and yellow, with intermittent cuts and scrapes. Casey started on his back, then helped him turn to lie back against the pillows and began on his chest.

My eyes wouldn't leave his body. I couldn't understand how someone could say they were fine looking like that. Why did he do that? Carson had told me that Sheppard had a high tolerance for pain. I surmised that it had something to do with his tour in Afghanistan. But why put on a brave face for everyone? His eyes were now closed, but he was smiling at Casey's jokes. How did he do that? I admit to being a little awed. Soon, his breathing evened out, and the smile faded away. He was finally asleep.

"That's better," Casey cooed, a pleased smile split her face. As she began removing his boots, she caught my eye. "The doctor only wanted him to stay long enough so that he would eventually drop off to sleep." She covered the colonel's inert body with a thin blanket, not bothering with the scrubs. "Patient man, our doctor. It always comes down to an argument between them, but the doctor knows how to wear John down." She smiled again, a little sadly now. "After missions like this, the colonel never sleeps. He'll wander the halls checking on everyone. Then comes the headaches, and the loss of appetite. Just when he gets right, something else happens." She smoothed John's hair away from his face. "So much worry for one person to carry."

"He's not alone," I said lamely. Truthfully, I felt embarrassed. I had some idea of what was going on with Colonel Sheppard; I even thought I knew him well enough to know when he was lying to me. He'd suffered a lot physically and mentally, and what I knew only scratched the surface. Feeling guilty, I pulled my eyes away from him.

"Don't worry about him too much," I heard the nurse say. "He always bounces back. But he gets under my skin, and I worry about him all the time." My eyes catch a glimpse of something, a faint expression on her face. But she snaps her sharp blue eyes to me. "Will you be staying the night?"

"No, I think I'll leave now." I rose from the bed as Carson entered the area.

"Ah, Dr. Weir. Leavin' us so soon?" He rooted me to the spot with a critical eye.

"It'll be fine," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Will I have to answer that question again? "I've got to get started on this report–"

"Mind if I ask ye what exactly took place, lass?" Beckett's voice was quiet and low when he interrupted me. He seemed suddenly concerned.

"Are you trying to steal Kate's business?"

He gave me a quick chuckle. "No, no. Just curious, is all." The concerned tone never left his voice.

Glancing over at the sleeping colonel, I hesitated, looking from him to the doctor. "Can we –" I pointed to Beckett's office. We walked quietly away from Carson's most frequent patient. "I'm not sure where to begin. We arrived through the 'gate all smiles. The people were willing to trade, but the colonel suspected they were hiding something."

"Always so distrustful, isn't he?"

I smiled sadly. He was suspicious, and I relied on his uncanny intuition. "We came to an agreement, eventually, and John relaxed a little. Then–"

"All hell broke lose," Carson nodded, understanding.

"Rebels from the neighboring town decided that was the time to pay a visit to the governor's home. They thought we were basically evil travelers from the Ancestor's Ring, bent on bringing destruction to their planet. Knowing I was the leader of the expedition, one of them took a swing at me. I tried to duck away, but he caught the side of my face." I stole another glance at John. His head moved back and forth; he seemed to be having a dream. Or nightmare. "And the colonel felt the need to become a distraction." I couldn't stop the yawn that reawakened the pain in my face.

The doctor frowned thoughtfully. "Sounds like him. He'll be fine. I'll let ye know otherwise, but ye know him. When he wakes, he'll be itchin' to get out of here. And I'm sure you'll be the first person he'll want to see." Carson stood slowly, taking my hand. "Have a bite to eat, get some rest. Come see me in the morning, but by all means, call for any reason."

Another yawn crept up on me, but this time I placed the compress on my cheek to ease the pain. "Good night, Carson." I knew it wasn't quite late enough for bedtime, but I really needed to sleep. Exiting the infirmary, I knew he was right about John. I left without looking back for him.

That was yesterday.

---------

TBC!


	2. Rodney

Slight spoilers for Conversion. Rodney! Watch your mouth!

Worry About You – Rodney

_Why?_ Why does he do that? Puts himself in harm's way, and then expects people to leave him stranded on some God-forsaken planet. I don't get it! It's not that I would ever feel the need to sacrifice myself for others, but Sheppard's propensity to do so is really getting on my nerves.

I look down for the hundreth time at the artifact I'm holding. This is useless. Every time I look at it, the colonel enters my thoughts, and I instantly forget why I'm looking at the damned thing. I shift uncomfortably on my stool. Another team found this in a very interesting part of the city. Amazingly enough, it remained untouched all these centuries –

Where the hell does he get off bringing Elizabeth into certain danger? I can't believe what happened. Oh, I've heard a few rumors floating around, and I'm sure I'll get the whole story tomorrow. I knew there would be some rough negotiations, but not that rough! Of course, Sheppard and that overgrown muscle had to bring it all to a close with an old-fashioned brawl. I wasn't there because I was doing more important things in the ruins near the gate. I just happened to look up and see Elizabeth and Teyla running pell-mell towards the gate. But I can only imagine that if that was a saloon in the old west, there would be people being thrown through windows and the swinging doors.

I chuckle to myself. I see Ronon the Barbarian being thrown behind the bar, smashing all the rot-gut whiskey, in my mind's eye. I have got to stop watching those old movies.

According to the rumors, Sheppard, the ape-man, and the locals beat the crap out of each other. Big surprise. I'm sure Sheppard was rewarded with some cracked or bruised ribs. Well, if he'd eat more, maybe that wouldn't happen so often. Actually, he hasn't been the same since he turned into a bug and back again. _Hmmm. Yes._

Where was I?

Oh, yes.

Ronon and Sheppard. Those grunts are made for each other. Always gotta defend the womenfolk 'n' all _– no, seriously, I really need to stop watching those movies –_ They really must stop doing that, especially when Teyla can definitely take care of herself. I've seen her in action... I wonder if she likes brains instead of brawn – _What am I saying?_ Trying to banish the thoughts of Teyla in her workout gear, I think of The Beast eyeing her on more than one occasion. But to fight like that and still look so... _Hmmm. Yes._

A sigh escapes my lips. The device I'm holding has become heavy in my hands, so I toss it down on the cluttered desk. It lands next to a stone tile. Really very interesting piece, you see. Delicate, intricate etchings all over glow faintly blue in my hand. I wonder what it would do when the colonel touched it –

Stupid gene! The one person who possesses the strongest DNA keeps trying to kill himself! Only a few of the scientist were born with the gene, and even I can do more than they can with a fake gene. I seriously believe I am surrounded by inferior people. They do this to me on purpose.

Then there's Carson Beckett. Although his gene is not as dominant as Sheppard's, he simply refuses to touch anything Ancient, unless it's for his voodoo magic. Quack doctor. What a waste!

Now, here I am, with a manufactured ATA gene, trying to make sense of every gadget and scribble that comes my way. It would've been easier to have been born with the stupid gene, but, no. Well, you can't pick your ancestors, can you? Deep down, I find myself relishing the challenge. Everyone knows that if they can't fix it, I can. And I will. Sheppard certainly knows it, or he wouldn't've said so to that hot, hot blonde on that volcano planet. Her name escapes me at the moment, but, God, was she hot. And intelligent. I'm sure, given time, I could've taught her a thing or two about Ancient technology. I think we would've gotten on rather well. _Hmmm. Yes._

Under pressure, I can make anything happen. It may not be prudent at the time, but it does keep me as resident genius. I'm good with that. However, the amount of pressure the colonel goes through on a daily basis protecting this city is enormous, to say nothing of his unsaid obligation to the Athosians. I like the guy, but I wouldn't take his job for a ZedPM. He's a protector, but he will sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat. Always the first one hurt, and the last to leave.

To be fair, I admire him for keeping me on his team. And for being able to hold a conversation, which is more than I can say for most of these idiots here. Besides Elizabeth. That little crease in her brow when Sheppard's running some half-assed plan by her, or when I immediately figure out yet another Ancient puzzle – well, maybe not immediately. But that's not the point. The point is –

I digress.

Military-wise, I'm no Daniel Jackson. Guns, while useful, are not my cup of tea. But I can shoot relatively straight – actually, Sheppard did say my aim was improving. And I can get us home to Atlantis, flying a jumper or not. But I do hate the sight of blood. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, and I have seen too much of the colonel's blood as of late.

I sigh loudly, and the sound echoes across the lab. I gently lay down the tile that I've been turning over in my hands, and rub my gritty eyes. Sleep is usually elusive, but right now, I'm tired and more than a little hungry. Bracing my hands on my knees, I rise stiffly from my stool.

As I exit my lab, Sheppard breezes quietly by, seeming to unconsciously avoid colliding with me. I would have moved, but I had no idea he was coming. I mean, he made no sound at all. How does he do that? Where is he going at this hour anyway? Did he escape Carson's voodoo hut, or did he actually get released?

I stretch my legs to catch up to him. Since he's here, he might as well help me with this tile... "Colonel Sheppard!"

Did he just _cringe_? What am I? The plague? He _is_ cringing!

"Rodney," he says, but doesn't turn around or stop walking.

I jog the last few steps to fall into step with him. I try to think of a segue to get him to come to the lab, or at least slow down. "Can't sleep, huh?" He slows fractionally, but I'm still out of breath.

"I could say the same for you," he says, glancing at me. Something like concern flashes in his eyes, then it's gone. _Is he worried about me?_ "I coulda sworn you have quarters somewhere around here."

"Oh, you're one to talk! I haven't seen you sleep or eat in the last 48 hours, and you want to talk about my habits?" I really hate him sometimes, whether he's right or wrong. I hear him faintly gasp. His eyes are closed, and he's pinching the bridge of his nose. My guess is a very big headache. Is that a vein throbbing at his temple? I reach hesitantly for his arm, he pausing mid-step.

"Colonel?" I get ahead of him briefly. He opens his eyes, and for a split second, I can see the depths of his weariness. Then it's gone. "You know, you should really be in bed, Sheppard. You look like crap."

I can't help it. Someone has to say it. He starts moving forward again, and I'm walking backwards. The motion nauseates me, so I turn around to walk beside him.

"Could we drop this, McKay?" he says, lancing me with a green glare. "You think I look like crap, well have you checked a mirror lately?"

I snort at him. If that's the best he can do, he must be out of it. "Oh, nice retort, Colonel. You should really save those gems for when there's more people around."

"You like that? 'Cause I got more."

"Whatever. I seriously doubt you do because you can't even walk straight. What's the matter, Sheppard? Marbles get knocked around too much? Bar room brawls getting too rough for you? Elizabeth –"

Now he does stop. A cold, cruel smile creeps across his face, as he wags a bony finger in front of my nose. He shakes his head, eyes glinting dangerously. Who does he think he is? However, I see something dark stirring behind those normally suspicious eyes. To be perfectly honest, he's giving me the creeps. _Did the lights just flicker?_ Then the moment is over. The clouds have moved away from the sun, and the beast has been banished. He claps me on the shoulder and gives a weary laugh. Sheppard releases me, moving onward without another word.

I'm a bit taken aback by this sudden behavior. Okay, maybe I crossed some proverbial imaginary line with him, but I needed to bait him just a little. Then an image of the forgotten tile and gadget flashes into my mind. I tap my finger on my lip in thought. _How do I ask him now?_ "Umm, since you're up, why don't you stop by my lab?" I hope to distract him from what just happened. "My team and I found this dev–"

"No." He's very succinct as I follow him into a transporter.

"No?" _Why not?_ It's not like he says yes all the time, but this time I was hoping to spend some time with him. Maybe get him to talk about what happened on R3F-269. He usually came to the lab when he couldn't sleep, so I thought maybe – I do _not_ understand him. "What do you mean by 'No'? 'No' as in not right now? Or, 'No' as in I'm too busy getting hurt saving people that I don't have time to do something important for –"

"McKay!" He cuts off my apparent downward spiral to madness – _he is so frustrating!_ – with a sharp tone and rounded eyes. "Let it go!" Pushing a hand through that usually perfectly groomed thatch of hair, he looks me in the eye again. This time, no clouds, no electric intensity, no flickering lights. "I'm busy. Go to bed, Rodney," he says. "That's an order." With a quicksilver smile, he's gone again.

_Go to bed, Rodney. Look who's talking!_ "You, too!" _Screw this!_ I'm not running to catch up to him anymore. I feel defeated, and definitely tired and hungry. _Go to bed, Rodney._ I snort and turn to go to the commissary. Stupid military people and their need for stoic heroism. Go ahead. Hide behind your mask of emotional control, give nothing away. Must be in the contract when you sign up. Check here if you can hide all types of pain and torture.

_Whatever._ Like I wouldn't notice he could barely turn his head to face me. Or the way he stiffly walked, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. And he has the nerve to look frail and tired and hurt. He really pisses me off. Why should I be the only one that cares? I do care, don't I? _Hmmm. Yes._

A jaw-cracking yawn and a stretch overcome me as I shuffle down the corridor. I hear voices behind me. Glancing behind, I see Teyla and Ronon (swinging saloon doors pop into my head again) speaking in hushed tones, and Carson ducking into the infirmary. Had I walked that far with Sheppard?

"...I am just worried about the colonel. He just will not rest when he is supposed to do so. He does not listen–"

The ape grunts, head nodding in my direction. I stop to let them catch up to me.

Teyla glances at me, and gives me another one of her radiant smiles. "Doctor McKay. How are you?"

Why do people keep changing the subject when they get around me? I try to give her a Sheppard-like smile. "I'm fine. A bit tired and kinda achy, but, ah, no worse for wear." _God, could I sound a little more lame?_ "Just trying to get the colonel to activate something for me, but you know how he is." I tried to keep my frustration in check.

"I am sure he is just tired," Teyla said softly.

Then, something I can't explain, comes over me. "Why does he do that?" I can't stop the words from coming out. "What makes a person run himself into the ground? There's gonna be nothing left of him if we don't help." If I was feeling defeated before, this just added to the weight. My shoulders sag, and I feel a gnawing in my stomach. I can't help but to look down, lacking the wherewithal to keep my head up.

Two hands grasp my shoulders, forcing me to look up from a shiny spot on the floor. Teyla and Ronon briefly squeeze my shoulders; Teyla departs with a reassuring smile. Either that, or a sad one. Whichever. "That doesn't make me feel any better, you know," I say; I can hear the sulk in my voice.

He-Man grunted, "That's all you're getting out of me, McKay." Honestly, I was surprised he allowed himself to show any kind of empathy. I watch them as they walk ahead of me.

God, it is so much easier to only think of saving your own ass. Worrying about others is way too exhausting, not to mention somewhat one-sided. I shove my hands into my pockets, following them. Hercules has now placed a ham-like hand on Teyla's delicate shoulder. I wonder briefly about Ronon and Teyla, again banishing any thoughts of Klingon love-making. My hand caresses something smooth and cool in my pocket.

Ooh. A power bar.

_Go to bed, Rodney._

-------

TBC... Next up, Carson!

Thanks so much for your kind words!


	3. Carson

A/N: Ok, this was like the hardest chapter to do. So sorry to any Beckett fans out there! Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Carson

I don't know why I let him talk me into things. He wouldnae sit still, or stop complainin', 'til I released him. I should jist be happy he stayed overnight. But now the infirmary is finally quiet. Gone is the colonel, and his bloody nightmares, and his constant attempts to leave. Against my better judgment, I always let him go. He has a lot on his mind, of course, a lot to worry about. But these heroics have to stop.

Stop before I can't fix him.

Stop before he's finally dead.

As long as I've been in this City, I've noticed a change in the colonel. The most peculiar things happen when he's about. Although he pretends it dinnae effect him, I see the wee changes. There are times when even I can feel Atlantis, but really only when I'm very, very tired. Or when I'm near John in the infirmary. Now that's a completely different experience. Sometimes if it's too bright for one of his stellar headaches, the lights will dim. When he's spendin' the night or two, he may think it's cold. And on more than one occasion, I have to turn the heat down.

Ta be perfectly honest, I envy the lad every now and again. Not only because of his dominant gene – although it would be nice not to have to use a palmplate to open every bloody door. He's fearless. I seriously doubt that man has met a machine he cannae fly. When it comes to his team, he can be tireless, relentless, and ruthless, as long as everyone gets back safely.

He won't give up.

Except when it comes to himself. I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm sure it is pure guilt that drives the man. Guilt that pushes him so far – too far – into ultimate danger of breathin' his last breath. One day, I'd like to know the whole story. Yet, it's hard enough jist to get a list of aches and pains out of the man. He has that annoyin' ability to file away pain, and if it shows at all, it must hurt three times as bad. As soon as he stepped – or, rather, pushed – through the 'gate, I knew he'd try to walk to the infirmary. So stubborn! Couldnae even keep his head up! The pain and exhaustion alone wouldae put me down. But I saw the fierce determination in his face as he walked next to me. I only caught him a couplae times when he swayed a bit too far. _Dead on his feet, that one. _

Casey Weber had effectively put the colonel to sleep sometime last night. And I was actually able to get a full night's sleep myself. Nearly forgotten what that was like. Walking lazily down the bright corridor, I stop off for tea and a muffin. Eventually, I wander into that familiar sterile place. The very first thing I do when I come into the infirmary is check his vitals. I'm quite pleased to see he's still asleep. Gently touching his wrist to check his pulse, I see his eyes snap open. _Bugger._ It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

"How long?" The first question he usually asks when he's been asleep.

"Oh, about twelve hours. And yes," I say, not waiting for the next question. "Elizabeth is fine. Jist gonna be sore for a wee bit."

_And now he wants me to let him go. _I asked a few routine questions, merely wantin' to hear him speak. In such a short time, I've come to recognize the colonel's habits. The way he carries himself, his breathing, and his eyes, all indicators of when he's well and hurt. They say the eyes will tell ya a lot about a person. If I watch him very carefully, I can see behind that mask of his, however briefly.

Right now, he spoke to me quickly, answerin' every question calm and controlled. I had planned to release him anyway, as he did stay overnight, before he started hollerin'. It's now seven in the mornin', and I'm watchin' him pick impatiently at the blanket that covers him; I cannae help but to study him. I took a deep breath. "All right. Ya can go."

The blanket nearly slaps me in the face as the colonel leaps out of the bed. I lay a hand on his good arm. "John. Touch nothing for a week. You really need to rest for the next few days. Are ya listenin'?"

He gave me one of those smiles. All innocence and charm. "You got it, Doc." He slid off the bed, and nearly fell. But he's gotten pretty good at catching himself. "I'm good, Carson. Swear. Just got up too fast." He waves me away briskly. "I'll return these later," he says with a grimace, pointing to the scrubs. Collecting his torn and bloody clothing from a nurse, he's gone. I hoped that he would at least sleep a few more hours before I see him hauntin' the halls like a restless spirit.

Sighing once again, I turn to my trusty nurse. "Well, Casey," I say triumphantly, arms akimbo. "'Tis a fine day fer inventory."

After endless meetings and questions about the colonel, I head back to the infirmary to catch up on some paperwork. Elizabeth seemed fine when I saw her, but I could tell Sheppard's absence made her a little nervous. With work nearly done, I make a late break to the commissary. I've a bounce in my step, I notice. No off-world missions today, and no accidents on the mainland or in the city. There's tea and a delightful stuffed Athosian bread with some sort of cheese and native vegetables. I'm a wee bit surprised that there's any of it left. Quite lovely, this bread.

As I sit glancing around the dining hall, I don't see the colonel around as I'd hoped. The dinner crowd has already gone, so I'm virtually alone. It was almost 9 p.m. Atlantis Time, of course. Maybe I'll stop off at Colonel Sheppard's before headin' back. Honestly, I hope that he's either asleep or has already eaten. Well, no, actually both. He'd lost some weight since the last time he stayed in the infirmary. _Ah feel like a bloody broken record when it comes to that man._ Eat. Get some rest. Call if you have any symptoms.

Rodney just entered the room, harassing the poor bairns behind the counter. Shaking my head, I stare into the dregs of my tea. It reminded me of Radek tellin' a story of his grandmother. Very interestin' woman. The Old World people had such a different–

"Hey, Carson."

Startled out of my memories by the brash scientist, I choked "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Could ya nae do that, Rodney?" Ma tea cup nearly went flyin' 'cross the room.

Rodney looked pensive, and a little distracted. Now, here's someone who needs sleep. He wasn't as good at hiding it as the colonel was, for there were many layers to John Sheppard. Rodney McKay had just as many, however, they were out for the whole world to see.

"Mmm. Sorry, Beckett. I didn't realize you were reading your tea leaves. How's your future looking? Are ya rich yet?"

I feel my eyes roll. Sometimes, they did that. "What can I do fer ya, Rodney?"

"Have you seen Sheppard?" He was tapping the table impatiently with a chewed fingernail.

If the colonel was sleeping, I wasn't about to send the caffeinated scientist to his door. _Yet, ah'm sure he's already been there._ "Not since this morning."

"You released him? He looked like death, and you released him?"

Not that he'd be needin' any explanation about my practices, I nodded calmly. "Yes, Rodney. Ah did." Lookin' him squarely in the eye, I point a severe finger at him. "He's not to touch anything for at least a week. Understand me?"

He waves a hand blithely at me. "Fine, fine." Frowning into his coffee cup, he rises. "Need more coffee..."

"Ya might wanna lay off the caffeine there, Rodney," I call to him. Again he waves me off.

This seems like the best time to return to the infirmary. Get out before McKay decides to follow me. I slip out before he sees me, and walk briskly towards my office. Nothing of consequence has happened in my absence, so I feel quite comfortable leaving a clean desk to the night shift. A thought occurs to me. "Casey? Any news from Colonel Sheppard?"

"No, Doctor. Not even for an aspirin."

"Thank you, Lannie. I think I'll go check on him before I turn in." I say my good nights, and exit my second home.

The lights in the corridor have dimmed for the night. Although I possess the ATA gene in fair amounts, I wouldnae want to be in the colonel's shoes. Being in the military may seem an advantage, but really for him, it was an added responsibility. The poor lad had enough to worry about. Shuffling down the corridor, I hear Rodney's plaintive voice down the corridor, arguing with someone. As I round then bend, I hear, "Go to bed, Rodney. That's an order." _Och! What is he doin' out here bletherin' with McKay?_

The lanky, dark-haired man comes into view, head bowed. "Colonel Sheppard," I say, doin' my level best to keep calm. Then he sees me, and freezes like a deer in headlights. Now I watch him quite closely, noticing his pale complexion and the faint smudges under his eyes, which are squinting at me in the dim lighting.

Headache.

He walked stiffly, even tossed me a carefree smile. But whether he knows it or not, he walks in a certain rhythm when he's really hurting. Yes, I notice all these little things about John Sheppard, and I still bend to his will. But he makes my life a livin' hell if I don't let him leave. A network of spies keep me informed, and I try not to get too far away. I'd rather he was calm, layin' about in his own bed, preferably sleeping.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Pick yer battles.

Tonight, his walk is slightly altered as he means to pass me. I cannae let that happen jist yet. "What are ya doin' outta bed, son? Ya need to be restin'." _Please! Jist sleep for one night. No one would bother ya I'd make sure of it. Besides, yer not the only one who can lock a door, ya know. Ah've been practicin'. _Stepping closer to Sheppard, I quietly say, "Ya took a sound beatin' yesterday, ah don't need ta remind ya. Give yer body a chance to heal." Giving him one last look, I see it. A tiny slip o' the mask. "Are ye in any pain?" A stupid question, I know, but it's a habit.

Another smile slides across his face. He is about to lie to me. "I'm good, Carson. Really." I dinnae believe him, of course, but he couldae at least looked me in the eye. "I have to take care of something real quick, and then I'll be tucked up in bed before ya know it." Now he flashes teeth in a wide grin. "Promise."

He stiffly raises his hands, placing them on my shoulders. Spinning us around, we switch places in the corridor. As he pulls away, I catch his wrist lightly in my hand, starin' him straight in the eye. "Eat something, and have a couplae naps. Call if you need anything." My mantra. Holding his wrist, I quickly check his pulse. I'm sure he's on ta me, but I don't care. His pulse is racing, and he's a wee bit on the warm side. Then I let go, trying to look defeated, as if I'd lost another round.

He grins his affable grin, and this time his amusement reaches his eyes. Giving me a mock salute, he turns around, heading towards the control room. "See ya later, Carson."

Later. Obviously, he knows it's late. The dawn came a wee bit earlier on this planet. Well, I'm sure he'll be checkin' on Elizabeth. Most likely, it's the reason he was so determined to get past. I sneak another look before he disappears around the bend. The rhythm of is walk has changed again. The colonel could drop where he stood, but not until he completes what he set his mind to.

I start walking towards my quarters, but I hear Rodney's shuffle before I see him. Backing slowly away, I head to the infirmary. He looks as though he's about to say something, but I duck through the doors, willing them to shut. _Lock!_ I move quickly to my office, ignoring the looks from assorted nurses. Then understanding dawns when they hear Rodney outside.

Whenever the colonel said no to touchin' Ancient gadgets, I know I'm in trouble. That abrasive man would hunt me down at times. The DNA I possess isnae nearly as strong, but it'll get the job done. Still, I know I'll break it eventually. Makes me nervous.

I decide I've hidden out long enough for Rodney to lose interest. Maybe he'll go to bed for once. Approaching the doors, I concentrated on the doors to unlock them. Before they open, I hear Ronon and Teyla laughing. If that doesnae throw Rodney off, nothin' will. Smiling apologetically to the nurses, I bid them a final good night.

Now, let's see about another night's sleep. A thrill goes up my spine as I think about my soft bed. Rather excitin' the prospect of hours of sleep.

Good night, ma wee bairns! Stay outta trouble!

--------------

I know. It was kinda lame. Be easy on me! I'm new! ;)


	4. John

A/N: This whole story was inspired by a song called Worry About You by Ivy. And this chapter was initially the first. But I thought it needed some fleshing out. So here ya go! Enjoy!

John

I walk though the quiet corridors of Atlantis. It's late, I'm tired, and I'm avoiding my bed. The only thing that awaits me there is nightmares, aches, and a constant feeling that something is wrong. I don't know why; can't really help it. Always wondering what's going on. It's not that I think I'm missing out on something, but the question nags: Will I be there when it happens? My duty is to protect this city, but more importantly, to protect the people who now inhabit it, and those on the mainland.

Apparently, I slept longer than I ever have while in the infirmary, according to Casey. Without Carson Beckett's Super Special Knock Out the Colonel drugs, no less. As I stalk the corridors, ignoring the throbbing in my head and the hitch in my shoulder, I have only one goal in mind. Then it happens.

"Colonel Sheppard!"

Cringing, I slow my pace without turning around. Really, I don't think my body could handle that right now. "Rodney."

"Can't sleep, huh?" he asks, a little breathless, as he caught up with me.

"I could say the same to you." This time I glance over at McKay. He looks tired, but I see a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "I coulda sworn you have quarters somewhere around here."

"Oh, you're one to talk! I haven't seen you sleep or eat in the last 48 hours, and you want to talk about my habits?" McKay says plaintively.

I feel my temper flare, but a sharp pain darts across my head. Involuntarily, I gasp, pausing mid-step. Pinching the bridge of my nose – as if it will help with the pain – and squeezing my eyes shut, I feel hands on my arm.

"Colonel?" When I open my eyes, I see Rodney ahead of me, walking backwards. "You really need to get to bed, Sheppard. You look like crap." He finally turns around to fall into step next to me.

"Could we drop this, McKay? You think I look like crap, well, have you checked a mirror lately?" I say lamely, attempting a disapproving glance that just makes my head hurt worse.

He snorts derisively. "Oh, nice retort, Colonel. You should really save those gems when there are more people around."

"You like that? 'Cause I got more." I know he's trying to bait me, but I'm just not up for it. He wants me to know he's concerned, without giving me the satisfaction of him actually saying it out loud.

"Whatever. I seriously doubt you do because you can't even walk straight. What's the matter, Sheppard? Marbles get knocked around too much? Bar room brawls getting too rough for you? Elizabeth –"

I've had it with his meddling! What does he know about what happened to Elizabeth? The mere mention of her name has sent me into a spiral of guilt and pain. And I'm not sure why I'm feeling this way. The situation could have been worse, but it wasn't. The guy hit her, but I don't think it hurt; she didn't even flinch. I have a newfound respect for her.

As I try to quell my anger, I raising a single finger, wagging it in front of him. A smile creeps across my face, and I don't think it was a nice smile, judging by McKay's expression. But I will not let him bait me anymore. Again my temper has flared, and I'm frayed at the edges. Forcing back the acid-like ire that keeps rising, I give a slight laugh, and softly slap him on the shoulder. Moving away quickly from him, I try to avoid his saucer eyes. _Did he think I was gonna hit him?_

Now he's fallen silent. I steal another glance sideways. McKay is tapping his finger on his lips to an internal beat, a gesture I'm pretty familiar with: he's about to ask me something.

"Well, since you're up, why don't you stop by my lab." The words rushed so quickly, my sluggish mind barely understood them. "My team and I found a dev–"

_Ah._ And he sounds a little guilty. "No." The last thing I wanted or needed right now was to go touching some strange object. Everyone knows what happens when I start touchin' things. Besides, Carson said no. Not that I listen to him, but today is a different story. If I feel that familiar vibration through my body at all right now, I may be violently ill. Just thinking about it makes me queasy, as I will the transporter doors to open. Maybe McKay will get the hint and leave me –

No such luck.

"No? What do you mean 'No'?" He barely squeezes through the doors as I pleaded with Atlantis to close them quicker than normal. Even worse, I think The City just chided me, sending a tiny bit of feedback underneath the constant hum. _Fine! _

He now crosses his arms, scowling at me. "No, not right now, or No, I'm too busy getting hurt saving people that I don't have time to do something important for–"

"McKay!" He started to sound hysterical. "Let it go!" My head is now pounding to the rhythm of my boots hitting the cool floor. Pushing a hand through my hair, I turn to him, looking him in the eye. "I'm busy." Turning away, I shout over my shoulder, "Go to bed, Rodney. That's an order."

As I round a corner, I pretend not to hear the muffled, "You, too." I hear McKay huff and shuffle away, pausing, then turning around. _Rodney! I swear to God! If you follow me... _Then he turns again, hopefully towards his quarters.

The next corridor is blessedly dim, causing the throb in my head to dull. This corridor takes me dangerously close to the infirmary, and I run the risk of –

"Colonel Sheppard." The quiet, controlled, calm voice conjures up an image of my father in my tired mind. _I'm in trouble!_

I freeze in my tracks like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew. He strolls casually towards me. Carson Beckett's eyes rake over me as if he had a built-in scanner wet-wired to his brain. "Carson," I say neutrally, giving hopefully another winning smile. _I swear I haven't touched anything!_

"What are ya doin' outta bed, son? Ya need to be restin'." He steps closer, gazing seriously at my face. I realize I'm not the best patient, but when I gotta do something, I gotta do it. Not sure exactly why; call me stubborn. No little injury is going to put me out long enough for me not to accomplish my mission. However, there is a sharp-eyed doctor effectively blocking my way; I brace myself for the inevitable lecture. "Ya took a sound beatin' yesterday, ah don't need ta remind ya. Give yer body a chance to heal." He nails me with that piercing blue stare. "Are ya in any pain?"

I try not to squirm, imagining a vein standing out on face from my left temple all the way across my head. He's searching my face for any falter in my countenance. I merely smile my best smile. "I'm good, Carson. Really," I say, careful to avoid his eyes without appearing to avoid them. "I have to take care of something real quick, and then I'll be tucked up in bed before ya know it. Promise!" I give him another hopefully convincing grin, and not a grimace, as I raise my stiff arms to place my hands on Carson's shoulders. We do a little dance as I spin him around to switch places, moving him out of my way.

He catches my arms as I release him. "Eat something, and have a couplae naps." Is he taking my pulse? Does he think I can't tell? Well, maybe. "Call if you need anything," he pleads, knowing he's lost another battle with me. I can't blame him for trying though. I know I'm supposed to eat and rest; gotta do it for the next week or so. It still bothers me when I can't fly or hold a P90 because my stupid injuries. I gotta duck more! But sometimes, food and sleep are overrated. However, if my belt tightens another notch, Carson will have my hide!

Now, I honestly grinned at him, giving a mock salute. "See ya later, Carson," I tell him, knowing that tomorrow will be here too soon. Turning quickly, but not too quickly, I continue forward to finish my task. This will have to be quick; I feel my body shutting down from exhaustion. I had to do this, I _had_ to ask her.

Home stretch. Nearly to my destination, I see Ronon and Teyla. They are walking close, and laughing. Somewhere, something stirs in me, I can't put my finger on it. "Doesn't anyone sleep in this city?" I feel another smile split my face.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Why is everyone shouting my name tonight?

"Teyla. Ronon." I watch her eyes light up with an inner happiness that makes me jealous.

"It is good to see you are well." Again with the scanner eyes! Why do people do that to me? I'm not that bad a liar, am I? "I hope once you are rested, you will join us for a meal?"

"Maybe," I hedge. What I really want is to be left alone, flying a jumper around the planet, testing the limits of an alien aircraft. How many people get to say that? But no one ever grants me that wish. "I've got some work to do, but I'll let you know." Before I leave them, I watch Teyla's face. Once again, she flays me open, exposing something deep down. She sees through me better than anyone I've ever known. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze, and briefly close my eyes to avoid her stare.

"Where are you headed, Sheppard?" Ronon mumbles.

_Saved!_ I open my eyes to look quickly from Teyla's searching eyes to Ronon's narrowed ones. "I just have to – Look, I'll see you both later." Shuffling sideways as I'm talking, I hitch a thumb up the corridor towards the control room. My arm and shoulder protest at the movement as I give a short wave, as I continue down the never-ending hall.

"Until later then, Colonel," Teyla says, sounding hopeful, yet a little sad. If I could look over my shoulder without falling or screaming in agony, I would.

Finally, I reach the stairs in the control room leading up to Elizabeth Weir's office and 'gate control. I climb the stairs slowly, legs getting heavier by the second. At the top of the stairs, I nod stiffly to the sergeant manning one of the control consoles. _Almost there!_ Teetering on the brink of exhaustion, I suddenly wonder why I'm doing this. The answer to my question is moot. I already know what she's going to say. Maybe I should just leave it alone. Go sleep it off, John. But I can't go to sleep. Not yet.

Then I see her, head in hand, staring furiously at a piece of paper. Stopping at the threshold of her office, I feel like a vampire waiting for an invitation. I can't do anything except watch. Watch her breathe. Watch her move. She was alive, and no thanks to me. And probably tired and hurting. Yes, she did look tired, and the dark bruise on her face was in stark contrast to her pale skin.

My temper nearly got her killed. I was thankful the local color took out their hatred on me. The bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes, aches and pains I could live with; leaving a planet with a member of my team harmed in any way is unacceptable. I feel my head nod, my eyes close. This could've waited 'til morning. _Am I falling asleep standing up?_

"John?" Her voice sounds far away... _Keep it together, Pilot!_ "Are you okay?"

I hear her shuffle around her desk towards me. "I'm fine." My eyes snap open, I draw a shaky breath, and raise my head.

"Why don't you sit down." She sounds too concerned; I must look like crap, like Rodney was kind enough to point out earlier. "You look terrible," she confirms. "Why aren't you resting? Does Carson know you're here?"

I laugh harshly. "Just saw him. No. Really. I'm fine." I try to keep a smile plastered to my face as spots dance before my eyes. "I was just checking up on ya, ya know, seein' if everything was okay." I try to look intently at her face as I lower my aching body down uncomfortably to a nearby chair.

Will she lie to me? Like I could tell. I thought I was pretty good at hiding things, but Elizabeth Weir was a master diplomat. Teyla had shown me time and again I wasn't as good as I thought, but if I could get out a situation quicker, namely the infirmary, I'd use what ever I had. Sorry, Carson.

She laughs breathlessly, waving her hand. "To be honest, I am exhausted. As a matter of fact, I was just about to turn in for the night."

My eyebrows bounce in surprise. "Good!" Ahem. "Good," I stammer. "Let me walk you to your room. If that's all right." Why wouldn't it? It's not like we're dating, right? Focus, John!

She gives me a funny, kind of lopsided smile. I wonder briefly if I looked that goofy when I did that. Nope, mine definitely looks goofy and hers looks cute. "Of course it's all right, John." She takes two steps toward me, holding out her hands.

My heart stutters; I'm not sure I'm ready to move yet. But if I was to continue the I'm-fine-everything's-fine pretense, I had to nearly jump out of that chair. Instead, I take her proffered hands, trying not to yelp in pain as my ribs shift. "Thanks."

Gratefully, we walk slowly down the stairs. Either she's aching like me, or she knows more than she's letting on. She clears her throat nervously. "You may remember a little planet we call R3F-269?"

Again, my heart skips a beat, causing my head to swim a bit. She's joking, of course, but still... "Hmmm. Would that be the one with or without the dissident locals?"

She screws up her face in thought. "That would be with. Would you believe they want to talk again?"

What? After beating the crap out of us? "Really? I'm amazed. Do we need to bring gloves? 'Cause I'm always up for another match."

She rolls her eyes. "Actually, they sent their humblest apologies, and even a peace offering." Her hands are clasped lightly behind her back as she ponders the corridor. "And, not only are they going to give us free access to those ruins, they actually want to talk to you. It seems they've never seen someone – how did he put it? – 'as scrawny as that Sheppard take down so large a person.' Impressed, I guess." She rounded her eyes at me.

"Did it with only two, count 'em, two hits," I brag, holding up two fingers. It's not something I'm proud of, but it had to be done.

Finally gaining her rooms, she squeezes my arm. "Here we are." I try to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she says mischievously. "Now, you go directly to bed before you fall down or something." She places her hand on the palmplate to open her door. I wanted to open it for her, but I so lacked the strength. As she entered her room, she turned, looking expectantly at me.

Looking closely at her, I have to say it now. "I'm really sorry, you know. And I hope you'll forgive me." I blurt out before I can stop myself. It takes so much energy from me, I fear I may pass out. But I need to know.

"What?" Elizabeth looks confused, yet amused.

"Forgive me." My head is killing me, and I rub my hand roughly over my face to wake myself up. I just need to hang on a little longer. "What happened the other day shouldn't have. You were not supposed to get hurt. But when I saw that guy take a swing at you, I lost control, and I'm really sorry." _Whew!_ That almost took all my energy to say; I lean my good shoulder heavily against the wall.

She looks closely at me, surprise warring with concern. "Why would I need to forgive you, John?" Her eyes penetrate me, and for the third time today, I look away. "Don't think for a minute when things go wrong that it's your fault. I mean, it didn't really hurt, but it did surprise me. Actually, it hurts more now than when it happened, but–"

Did she stop because of my expression? I know I must look horrified, because that's how I feel. She's just trying to cheer me up, but the whirlwind of guilt is about to suck me under.

Elizabeth's smooth face becomes marred with lines of worry and concern. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Really, it's not your fault. Not the Wraith. Not Ford."

I can't help but to snap my attention back to her. It still felt like an open wound when his name was mentioned. My biggest failure to date.

Her eyes sharpen. "Or anyone who doesn't come back alive. We've embarked on the riskiest venture of our lives. You knew that, we all knew that. You will not blame yourself for anything. If anyone is to blame, it's me." She puts up a hand as I start to protest. "I hate that you put your life on the line to save everyone. I can't even begin to imagine what you have to deal with on a daily basis. But let me worry about everyone else. You just get back here as safely as you can with as many people as you can." She sighed, placing a light hand on my aching arm. "Are you listening to me?"

As I study the floor, I want to flinch away. But I feel like I need her touch, her comfort. I close my eyes fully now, trying to keep any hidden emotions from surfacing. Taking a deep breath, I force them down again.

"Please. Just say you forgive me," I say flatly, opening my eyes to watch her.

She stares back at me quietly. Suddenly, she moves forward wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, careful of my ribs. Gently, she strokes my back, as if I were a kid who's had a bad day. Truthfully, I kinda feel like one. Leaning away from me she looks up at me again. "You're always forgiven, John." Releasing me, she steps into her room, stopping near a table. "Now, I may not agree with you on some things. But we trust each other to make the right decisions."

Her rooms are still dark, so I nudge Atlantis to turn a light on in the corner. Elizabeth looks momentarily surprised, glancing around the room, then back at me. "You're getting good at that. Now go to bed. Right now." Another mischievous smile curls her lips as she crosses her arms. "I mean it. Don't make me call Carson." Walking back towards the open door, she raises that brow, daring me to disobey.

Despite my bone-tiredness, I can't help but to smile. "Don't think I'm not already in trouble. Good night, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams." Stepping away from the door, I raise a hand. "Let me get that." The door whispers shut, and I'm sure to lock it. Walking away, I feel better. I just needed to hear it from her. I know everything's not my fault, but I can't help feeling that way.

When I finally reach my quarters, I am completely drained, emotionally and physically. I can barely open my own door. Yet it opens, and I stumble inside, blindly finding my way to my bed. I fall into it fully clothed, lacking the energy to even take off my boots. Pulling a blanket around me, I fall into the waiting arms of sleep.

-----------

TBC...


	5. Elizabeth

Worry About You -- Ivy

_Bye bye baby_

_Don't be long_

_I worry about you _

_While you're gone_

_I think of you in my dreams_

_You never know just what you mean _

_To me_

Elizabeth

Again, I feel someone watching me. Glancing up, I see John standing just outside my office. He's still pale, and looks tired, leaning against the door frame, head bowed. Did he just stagger? "John? Are you okay?" I rise from my chair behind the desk.

I watch him seemingly collect himself. "I'm fine." Then he raises his head. I see pain and relief at war in his green eyes, but he still did not enter my office.

As I stand before him, I want to put my arms around him and guide him to the nearest chair. However, I know he wouldn't stand for it. So I try a different approach. "Why don't you sit down," I say, trying not to sound overly concerned.

He finally moves toward me. Slowly. Stiffly. I though he looked bad earlier, but now in the full light of my office – "You look terrible." The words come out before I can stop them. So I press on. "Why aren't you resting? Does Carson know you're here?" Words just keep tumbling out of my mouth.

He gives a strained laugh. "Just saw him. Really. I'm fine." A familiar smile is on his face, one designed to mask his pain. "I was just checking up on ya, ya know, seein' if everything was okay."

Now, he's staring at me; his eyes watching me closely. I feel like I'm being interrogated. Two can play that game. As my mask of calm automatically slips into place, I suddenly decide on telling the truth. Secretly, I hope John will get the picture that he doesn't have to be so stoic. And maybe he'll leave me and go to bed. "To be honest, I am exhausted. As a matter of fact, I was just about to turn in for the night."

He seems surprised, with his brows bouncing. "Good!" Ahem. "Good. Let me walk you to your room." He pauses awkwardly. "If that's all right."

Feeling a smile creep up, I give in. I really don't want him to move from the chair, but he has to get to bed. Carson will have my head if he passes out anywhere but his room. "Of course it's all right, John." I hold out my hand to him, wondering if he'll take it or put on another brave face.

Again he surprises me and takes my hand. I hear his breath catch just as he stands, and very, very briefly, I see pain and exhaustion cloud his eyes. In an instant, it's gone. I've never bruised my ribs, so I can't begin to imagine what he's going through, and it's not the first time it's happened since I've known him either.

"Thanks," he says breathlessly.

As we approach the stairs, I notice the slightest hesitation. Walking slowly, I hope he knows he doesn't have to rush. I steal a glance; he seems to be concentrating on walking. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

I clear my throat, nervously, wondering if I should bring up anything relating to the last mission. But I soldier on. "You may remember a little planet we call R3F-269?"

He can't possibly get any whiter, but he does attempt it. Then his face relaxes. "Hmmm. Would that be the one with or without the dissident locals?"

Hoping to keep the mood light, I scrunch up my face pretending to think about his question. "That would be with. Would you believe they want to talk again?"

Now his eyebrows have disappeared under his unruly mop. "Really? I'm amazed. Do we need to bring gloves? 'Cause I'm always up for another match."

I roll my eyes dramatically. "Actually, they sent their humblest apologies, and even a peace offering." Her hands are clasped lightly behind her back as she ponders the corridor. "And, not only are they going to give us free access to those ruins, they actually want to talk to you. It seems they've never seen someone – how did he put it? – 'as scrawny as that Sheppard take down so large a person.' Impressed, I guess." I rounded my eyes at him.

"Did it with only two, count 'em, two hits," he says, holding up two fingers.

Eventually, we gain my quarters, and he gives a over cheerful, "Here we are!"

"Why thank you, kind sir," I say, hoping to keep the mood light, giving his arm a light squeeze. But I know he's only standing through sheer force of will. Stubborn. "Now, you go straight to bed, before you fall down or something." My hand finds the palmplate to open my door. Sometimes, I wish I could open doors and turn on lights and gadgets with my mind. I've seen John do it; often he doesn't realize it until someone says something.

I turn to give a final good night, but he's lingering, even more distracted than earlier. Finally, he looks at me, eyes pleading.

"Forgive me," he says in a rush.

_What?_ "What?" To say I was surprised would be an understatement. So serious a statement now.

He takes a slow, deliberate breath. "Forgive me. What happened the other day shouldn't have. You were not supposed to get hurt. But when I saw that guy take a swing at you, I lost control, and I'm really sorry." Suddenly, he leans against the wall just beside my door, spent.

Allowing this to sink in, I choose my words carefully. "Why would I need to forgive you, John?" Looking into his weary eyes, I search for a deeper meaning. I don't know why, but I have to know where this is leading. However, he looks away. I'm losing him to his constant guilt.

"Don't think for a minute when things go wrong that it's your fault. I mean, it didn't really hurt, but it did surprise me. Actually, it hurts more now than when it happened, but–" I say, hoping that he will look at me again. But he has the most horrific look on his pale, pale face. Uh oh! "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Really, it's not your fault. Not the Wraith. Not Ford."

_Ah!_ That got his attention. "Or anyone who doesn't come back alive. We've embarked on the riskiest venture of our lives. You knew that, we all knew that. You will not blame yourself for anything. If anyone is to blame, it's me." He starts to protest, and I quiet him with a raised hand. "I hate that you put your life on the line to save everyone. I can't even begin to imagine what you have to deal with on a daily basis. But let me worry about everyone else. You just get back here as safely as you can with as many people as you can. Are you listening to me?"

I wonder briefly if there's a place on his body that doesn't ache. Sighing, I place my hand lightly on his arm, feeling him tense, like a bird ready for flight.

His eyes are closed now, head bowed. After another deep cleansing breath, he raises it; the mask has been set in place again. It slips for a moment, then returns, his face expressionless. "Please," he says in a monotone. "Just say you'll forgive me."

I can do nothing but stare back at him. How can I console him? Quickly, I move closer to him and wrap my arms round his thin waist, fairly certain I've avoided any major injuries. I want to comfort him, and I found myself stroking his back. Isn't that what mothers do for their children who are hurting?

Leaning slightly away, I try to find his eyes again. They are guarded and shadowed. I give a hopeful smile. "You are always forgiven, John. Releasing him, I step into my darkened room. "Now, I may not agree with you on some things. But we trust each other to make the right decisions." A light comes on before I can do anything, surprising me for a second. See! I wish I could do that! "You're getting good at that. Now go to bed. Right now." I raise my trademark brow, and give a crooked smile. "I mean it. Don't make me call Carson." I moved towards the door to close it when he leaves.

Finally, he smiles. "Don't think I'm not already in trouble. Good night, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams." He comes away from the wall stiffly and says, "Let me get that." He gives a wink, and the door whispers shut, and he is gone.

For a moment, I stare at the closed door. I worry so much about him, but I cannot be his guardian. Sooner or later, he will have to go on another mission, and possibly into another altercation. Just exploring the city is dangerous by itself. But honestly, I wish I knew exactly what goes through that head of his.

I still have no regrets regarding my decision to lead this expedition, or convincing John Sheppard to join us. Turning away, I fold my arms and stare at my bed, ready to deal with the next obstacle. Sleep.

I suddenly yawn, and decide to crawl into bed right then. _I'll change later._ I kick off my shoes, and fold myself under the soft covers. As my eyes start to close, I ponder the fact that we have created a family out here. Trillions of light-years away from our birthplace, we all have to make due. We have the Daedalus, but we always come back to Atlantis.

She is our home now.


End file.
